


Who are you?

by Byxl



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternative Universe - Goblin, Light Angst, M/M, Monsta X Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byxl/pseuds/Byxl
Summary: „Every moment I spent with you shined. Because the weather was good, because the weather was bad and because the weather was good enough, I loved every moment of it.“





	

Kihyun hates looking back at all the old times.

Hates the strange memories that flood through his mind and never leave.

The sudden flashes of a face he dares to know, the sudden smile of a person he can't recognize anymore. It's just an endless amount of questions nobody was able to answer and while he stands in the darkness hoping to see the light, he realizes, he won't – he never will.

Because he was alone now.

He'll wake up, realizing something was off.

He'll make two cups of coffees instead of one and he wonders why, when he always lived alone for the last years.

And he also noticed the ridiculous amount of matches put everywhere; one in his pocket, one in his bag. But he never touched a cigarette before.

He doesn't know why it feels like someone was supposed to be there, would find himself crying along with the rain, when he was fine before. He doesn't know why living felt so difficult now, when there was absolutely nothing that held him back from being happy.

It feels weird to live knowing that there must be a hole in his heart that was trying to hurt him and rip him apart.

 

The streets look like they always do.

He takes the same steps forward, like he always would, earphones stuck in his ears, music running. He passes a traffic-light, passes a bunch of strangers who glance over and disappear – they won't remember his face anyway.

It felt like someone was walking next to him; like the empty space next to him was fit for someone, he used to know and whenever he would try to think about it, he would get these headaches that hold so much pain, he would try to think of something else; something that wouldn't make him like this. Lonely and sad.

It's an endless routine of waking up, going to work, leaving and going back to bed; waking up, going to work, leaving and going back to bed again and again. It's an endless routine he never changed and every bit of it was difficult now.

He would wake up and feel like something was off, would go to work and mess up half of his paperwork because he suddenly felt like crying or felt sick. He would leave with a lonely feeling inside his stomach and would go to bed with a heavy head and shaking fingers.

It feels like hell, because he doesn't know how to stop feeling all of this and nobody was there to help him. Like he was trapped in the same place for years and years.

And it hurts, hurts so much that he found no reason to go on living that he just thought it would be better to just disappear.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks again. Lots of tears. Tears, that make him feel vulnerable and weak. Which makes him look pathetic, because he was standing in the middle of a crowd, but he knows, nobody will look at him anyway.

„Are you alright?“, a voice asks that seems hesitant, yet familiar; a voice that makes him itch yet brings up a bunch of memories he can't make out.

He slowly looks up, stares into brown, warm eyes and furrowed eyebrows; a familiar, yet unfamiliar face and he just doesn't know who that man was, that was standing in front of him, but something deep inside of him told him that he had seen those eyes before. Those warm, safe eyes that seemed to hold him without any touch.

But there is no name, no memory. No sudden realization, no immediate reaction that he can make except stare at the red locks, the pale face and the eyes that stopped worrying and went back to a regretful, guilty look.

„I'm fine.“, he mutter, „thank you.“

He walks by, hand clutching to a fist and suddenly anger grows over him. Anger and sadness that made him want to punch any wall, but cry at the same time.

His heart was aching.

But there was nothing he could do now.

 

He wakes up with a bad dream again, stumbles out of his bed and passes the small vase filled with buckwheat flowers that he would buy every day after work without any meaning.

And he would find himself stare at them aimlessly and he knows that he would cry himself to sleep every now and then and it would rain, rain for a very long time on those days that it would only make him sadder.

Passing the mirror, he would glance at the tired, red eyes, the pale, exhausted face and his thin and weak frame and it would upset him how bad he looks, but he didn't care anymore.

 

It was cold and it was in the middle of the night.

Kihyun wakes up yet from another nightmare and realizes he was clutching onto the box of matches again and he was crying again, just like the sky.

He lights up a match and watches the flame flicker back and forth, warmth surrounded tiny bits of his face, making him smile weakly.

Isn't it sad that one could kill the fire's life just by blowing it out? What a sad, yet ironic tragedy.

And with that said, he lifts the match up to his lips – only inches away – and blows it out, watches the smoke appear and disappear only in a matter of seconds.

And his eyes watch it go, watch how the room is dark again and there were still tears soaking his face, but there was a person standing next to his bed and he doesn't know how and what just happened, but he knows for sure that he felt fear. Only fear.

And the stranger's hand reaches out for him and he backs away, hits against the wall before realizing there was no escape. But the hand was right in front of him now, slowly touches his shoulder, making him tremble more and he wants to scream, at least shout, but there is no noise.

„Don't be afraid of me“, a soft voice murmurs, „please.“ and Kihyun lights up another match and stares into a pair of eyes that make his head turn and turn. He was shaking, crying, trembling at the sight of someone he didn't know, could feel his body react without his head knowing what he was doing and he was reaching out for this stranger although he didn't know anything.

The embrace feels warm and familiar and it scares him. The scent seems like he had smelt it before and the soothing voice trying to calm him down was driving him insane.

Why couldn't he remember?

„Who are you?“, he asks, when he backs away slowly, hands shaking. But instead of an answer he gets the look of a sad stranger. Like those simple words hurt him.

He looks nice and kind; like a distant memory of him because although he has never seen this face, he knew for sure that he would recognize it just by his touch.

And the latter doesn't answer, just starts smiling this really sad smiles that breaks his heart a bit and makes him frown. „Do I know you?“, he just asks and it didn't matter that it was completely dark in the room, because he didn't miss the nod.

A shaky breath escapes his lips and he leans forward, knees pressing against the mattress of his bed and he halts, but then slowly reaches out his hand. Just inches away from the other's face, he stops, asks, „Can I?“ and it's not a no.

He knows this feeling from somewhere, has felt these feelings once before, but his head starts hurting again, so he flinches, removes his fingers.

It's a flash of a face that was smiling so brightly that passed his mind and Kihyun screams and backs away, because it's the stranger's face. He can tell it is.

„Who are you?“, he asks again, body trembling, suddenly feeling cold and strange.

But he doesn't get an answer back.

And he was alone again.

 

And from that day on, he would suddenly be there, in front of him.

He would pass by, would appear out of the sudden and say nothing but have this sad look on his face and Kihyun doesn't know what those eyes were trying to tell him.

And sometimes, he would wake up with a bouquet of flowers next to him and he doesn't say anything but he doesn't throw them away either. He puts them to the side and will spend the next minutes staring, wondering when the next time will be when he meets him again.

 

This stranger, that seemed not strange at all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Does a Goblin au even count as a superpower prompt?  
> I hope it does-  
> Thank you for reading!


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